


Montreal

by fuzzyalarmclock



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-16 15:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14167578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzyalarmclock/pseuds/fuzzyalarmclock
Summary: All because he's an idiot and didn't bother to open his mouth and say, Hey, Tess, I've decided to stay in Montreal.Takes place after the "Tout le monde en parle" appearance.





	1. Montreal

Tessa didn't know Scott was planning to stay in Montreal until he mentions it on air.

Scott is always the first to get homesick when they're away. She knows his love for Toronto, London, and Ilderton. He talks about the family business with pride, so she assumed he would want to be a part of it when they were done competing. Mostly she's surprised he didn't tell her first.

She wonders if he met someone and that's why he's staying. How he would even have time to do that, she doesn't know. They've been so consumed with practice and competition for the past few months—hell, few years—but Scott was always better at balancing his personal life with their professional one.

A tiny voice in the back of her mind hopes he's staying for her.

 

 

He knows it was a mistake to say it in an interview before he even told Tessa. But the words are out of his mouth and it's too late now. Out of the corner of his eye, Tessa's perfect posture stiffens. The interview feels long after that. He doesn't even like red wine, but he sips his, finishing it off because it gives him something to do with his hands.

As the years have passed, he's loved seeing Tessa come into her own when it comes to media interviews and appearances. He knows she likes picking an outfit and getting made up for an event, but even she looks relieved when some guy in a headset tells them they're done and helps them take off their mics.

Scott reaches up to help Tessa step down from the stage in her heels, but she does it on her own. His hand hangs there for a long moment before he shoves it in his pants pocket, walking behind her to the dressing rooms. Tessa asks if she can change back into jeans before they leave (he drove), so he waits out in the hall for her, wondering how he can possibly explain his way out of this one.

When she opens the door, she's wearing jeans and a soft flannel. She's pulled her sleek hair into a high ponytail and taken off some of her makeup. Her eyelids are pale and luminescent. “You ready?” he asks. She nods, her mouth drawing into a thin line.

 

 

After they leave the studio, she waits to see if Scott will explain the big life decision he's apparently come to without so much as mentioning it to her, but of course he's quiet. Maybe he doesn't even realize he surprised her with his decision.

She's overreacting. She tries to calm herself, to figure out why she's upset. It's not as if Scott announced he was moving to Japan or somewhere. He isn't leaving.

It finally lands in her lap. She hasn't made any plans of her own. Tessa hates feeling adrift. She's spent the majority of her life with a clear cut goal in mind, the past 15 years with a regimented schedule, and to suddenly have all this time scares her. In the new, overwhelming expanse of freedom before her, she's felt a little less alone because she knows Scott is in the same place as her.

Only it turns out he isn't. He's making plans and moving forward while she stands still. She's alone and she didn't even know it.

 

 

He's never gotten used to all the interviews. It's his least favorite part of the job. Over the years, Tessa developed a way of getting him to relax, to laugh even, when they're doing a long day of press. So he half expects her to deflect, to flip through his presets on the radio and tease him about how _of course_ it's all country and the CBC because he's secretly an old man. Old Man Moir. It's a pretty tired schtick, but it would make him laugh nonetheless, and it would be worth it to hear Tessa's peal of laughter in return.

But not tonight. She doesn't reach for the radio, flip through the dial, and try to find the one oldie station playing Hall and Oates just to make him groan. Instead, they both sit there in stony silence. All because he's an idiot and didn't bother to open his mouth and say, _Hey, Tess, I've decided to stay in Montreal._

“You didn't tell me.” She says finally.

He's had girlfriends point out how often, in the middle of an argument, he would let out an exasperated sigh like he was annoyed they were even discussing this (which most of the time he was, but he never told them that). He tries very hard not to do this with Tessa. Ever. “I was going to,” he replies calmly. “It just slipped out.”

“It must be something you're pretty excited about if you can't wait to tell everyone.”

He tries to ignore the sarcasm in her voice, he really does, but then he's mumbling under his breath. “Yeah, god forbid I have anything of my own.” Tessa looks at him like he's slapped her across the face. Eyes wide as saucers, emeralds flashing with white hot heat before bursting into tears. “Ah geez, Tess.” He leaves his left hand on the wheel, his right reaching to comfort her, but she curls towards the window and brushes his hand away.

“Take me home,” she commands even as her voice cracks.

 

 

She leaves him in the garage, jumping out before he even pulls into his spot, which makes him yell. He claims to always be worried about her getting hurt, about hurting her himself. _Well, Scotty, here we are._

The thing is, while he's the one who has done the hurting this time, she keeps blaming herself. She's the one who wanted to compete again. She's the one who wanted to move to Montreal. She's the one who pushed them to do all these appearances. She's the one who chose to have her life and career intertwined with his for the past 21 years.

It's like her mother told her in 2014, it was hard to walk away from something like that. _Something like that._ Meaning what? A relationship, a friendship, a marriage?

Back then it was different anyway. Together, they'd decided to retire. She was going to get her master's. He was going to work in his family's skating shop. They would be right down the road from each other, just like always.

She knows she's being dramatic. She knows she has offers, opportunities to build her brand. A perfectly satisfying path ahead. But it's the first path she's known without him.

 

 

Scott sinks down into the couch into his apartment, thinking about how the night could have gone differently. He could have told her when he picked her up, the two of them nestled in his car, but they had both been ramped up. The press over the past few days was starting to take its toll. He could tell by Tessa's face. Instead of telling her something serious, he wanted to tell her something to make her laugh.

He wonders if perhaps it's not the press or the uncertainty of their lives right now, but something else. Something deeper. Something which happened in Japan three years ago.

They'd been feeling at odds then, too. Not with each other, but with the world, with their lives. Scott was feeling out of place, especially in Tessa's world. She had all these plans to go back to school and get her master's, maybe in psychology or business. All Scott had was an open offer to work in the family skate shop. He was frustrated he might end up in the same little town where he grew up. He felt like he was losing the best thing that ever happened to him, even as she sat across from him at a little sushi bar in Osaka.

Sake was ordered. The rest of dinner was a blur. They ended up back in his bed. That part he remembers. He'd held Tessa a million times, in a million different ways. In practice, competition, during those long flights. But there, in his bed, she seemed smaller than she ever had before. Fragile. He didn't want to be the one who broke her, but now he was afraid it was too late.

When he woke up the next morning, she was gone. When she got on the bus that took them to the arena, she could barely look at him. The only time he got to touch her that week was during practice or their performances. It was when everything started to become real for him. He could channel his pain, his emotion into the stories they were telling on the ice.

He knows it's stupid, holding this flame for her these past three years, but he's never claimed he's a smart guy. If anything, he's a lucky guy. He lucked into finding Tessa. As a skating partner and a friend.

He wanted to stay in Montreal because she was here. He knows she will make her own plans. Maybe she already has. And maybe she won't be here for long, but he knows how much she loves the city. If she can't live in Paris, she told him once, this is second best.

 


	2. Los Angeles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As good as she is at shutting off her emotions when she needs to, sometimes they still surface, unbidden. The night in Osaka rises up in her memory, as it has sporadically over the past three years, and she scoots down farther into the chair, trying to concentrate on the waves crashing, and forget the sensation of Scott's skin under her fingertips.

The tightness in her legs. Tessa stirs, tangled in her sheets, not sure if the pain is real or a dream. The terrifying, all too familiar sensation washes away the more she wakes. She breathes a sigh of relief, but now she's awake and lies there, wondering if Scott is having as much trouble sleeping. When they were competing at the junior level, her nerves would keep her up. She would lie still, listening to the soft sounds of her mother sleeping in the bed next to hers and wonder if Scott was awake. Once they stayed at a hotel with a telephone in the bathroom (she couldn't imagine why anyone would need a phone in there), but in the middle of the night, there she was, sneaking in to call Scott.

When the pain started, when everyone thought she was making it up in her head, Scott believed her. He listened to her, made her speak up in practice when she was in pain, held her hand when she found out she was going to have surgery. Even when she gave him permission to find another skating partner, Scott only shook his head and said, “Are you crazy, Tess?” He waited for her.

Everyone saw him as the strong, supportive partner. And he was, but he was also Scott. Goofy, charming, and unexpectedly sensitive. Emotional. He was the emotional one. When they were getting notes from an endless cavalcade of coaches, skating experts, dance experts, choreographers, sports therapists, and business managers, Tessa felt like bursting into tears so many times, but she always held back. Scott, on the other hand, was known to storm off, to fly into rages, to bite back somehow. She learned to lock up her emotions and Scott never had. So it's not wholly unexpected for him to act irrationally, even when she's the one mad at him.

She finally falls back asleep only to hear her phone vibrate on the bedside table. She fumbles for it and squints blurry-eyed at the screen. “Going to see the fam while I can. See you in L.A.” Her chest constricts, so tight she feels she could pluck it from her lungs and there would be a solid firm mass of all her bottled up feelings. Her fingers slip, letting the phone go, and she rolls away, needing physical distance from him even though he isn't there.

 

 

Coming home has always been a relief. An exhale, a breath of fresh air, a place where he can discard the public persona and be completely relaxed, completely himself. Scotty.

He wishes it still felt that way. As much as he talked about Tessa over the years, as much as his family asked about her and were as deeply invested in their partnership as he was, moving to Montreal created this divide he wasn't sure he could come back from. Not that his family weren't supportive of the decision. When he, when  _they--_ because Tessa had come to his family dinner to be there for the announcement—told his family they were coming back to competition, the whole table had erupted in cheers. His mother was crying, his dad was slapping him on the back, and his brothers were scooping Tessa into big bear hugs. 

Even though they had a plan, the size and scope of their decision sometimes overwhelmed Scott. Engulfed him, really. And the only person who could pull him out of the whirlpool of self-doubt and worry was Tessa. Their bond became the strongest it had ever been. It was so intense and so personal, he hesitated to let other people in. Even his family. Especially his family.

His brothers teased him for years about being in love with Tessa and while there were moments in the past where Scott thought maybe they were right, it was Montreal where he finally realized he had never really been in love with Tessa before. But now he undoubtedly was.

Deeply, endlessly in love with her. It was too private, too precious to share. So he stayed to safe topics like practice and the skate shop. He rarely uttered a word about her, afraid just the tone of his voice would betray him. When directly asked, he usually spit out a quick answer and changed the subject.

His family and Tessa had been intertwined for so long, his lifetime really, he thought maybe he was imagining the distance he felt. He'd been away so long, locked into an intense schedule, and an even more intense roller coaster of emotions, he needed time to adjust. But after Pyeongchang, after spending some real time at home in Ilderton and London, he knew he wasn't imagining it. It was there. And it was going to stay the same way unless he did something about it. Unless he tells his family about Tessa or unless he tells Tessa about...

He isn't ready. It's why he left Montreal without having to see the hurt on her face. He's a coward.

 

 

Travel can easily become drudgery when you're living out of a suitcase for months of the year, but after years of traveling the world, Tessa finds it's still one of her favorite things to do. And what better way to forget a disagreement with your “business partner” (she secretly hates that term) than taking a trip to L.A with your best girlfriend?

After spending a day exploring the canals of Venice and the shops along Abbott Kinney Boulevard, she and Kelly make their way back to Santa Monica. The hotel has a restaurant with a beautiful deck looking out over the beach and ocean. It's so different from any view she has in Canada. Tessa kicks her legs up onto the opposite chair, closing her eyes as she listens to the surf and lets the sun soak into her skin.

Between the activities of the day, she hasn't even though of Scott. She knows she will have to face him soon. He arrives tomorrow. She knows they will have to present an united front on Ellen, as always.

As good as she is at shutting off her emotions when she needs to, sometimes they still surface, unbidden. The night in Osaka rises up in her memory, as it has sporadically over the past three years, and she scoots down farther into the chair, trying to concentrate on the waves crashing, and forget the sensation of Scott's skin under her fingertips.

Other than changing out of her plane clothes, Tessa hasn't moved from the deck since they got back to the hotel. She and Kelly planned to venture out to Venice for dinner, but when her best friend sees how relaxed she looks, they scrap that idea and decide to stay in and have dinner at the hotel. The waiter directs them to the drinks menu and it seems like the perfect night for a martini. The sun is setting and there's a cool breeze off the water. They won't see weather like this for months in Canada.

She's excited to actually have some time to catch up with her friend. She's been on this endless cycle of practice and competitions for what seems like forever, so to actually have time to talk to people about something other than skating is a joy she can't adequately describe. The conversation revolves around the increasing numbers of opportunities and partnerships offered to Kelly. Being on the road so often, she usually misses the celebratory drinks or dinners which mark friends' accomplishments, so she's more than happy to show up when she can and offer her friends as much as support as they offer her. Of course, her own schedule comes up. Off to Japan in a week and her cheeks burn at the thought of being back there with Scott.

“What game are you guys playing on Ellen?” They'd had a video call with one of the show's producers the week prior to discuss the order of things.

“Oh, one of those games where we answer questions about each other. She's calling it the not dating game or something.”

Kelly raises an eyebrow. “So she's asking you about it.”

“It's Ellen. Of course.” She'd only seen the show a handful of times, but she knows enough to know Ellen is always trying to set people up.

“But your answer is still the same?” she hears something in her friend's voice she hasn't heard before. A note of hopefulness. She wants Tessa to say it's a different answer.

“The very same.” She twirls the olives in her martini, unable to make eye contact with Kelly.

She doesn't say anything for a long moment and then finally. “He's different with you.” She doesn't wait for Tessa's reaction, but plows on, backing up her theory. “I mean, different than he was three, four years ago.”

“Three years ago we weren't competing. Having that space from competition, it changed things between us.”

“That's not what I mean and you know it. It's the way he looks at you. He's in love with you.”

She's used to people asking if she and Scott are together or if she's in love with him, but she's not used to hearing it from her  _best friend_ . It makes her even more uncomfortable because Kelly seems to have linked it to around the same time as Osaka. They'd both promised not to let it get in the way of their long-term goal. Their comeback. She's looked at him a million times since then and never seen it. It couldn't be true. Not knowing what else to say, she smiles and shakes her head. “You're drunk.” 

“ _You're_ drunk.” Tessa can't deny she's feeling a little buzzed. She rarely drinks during training, so she's always been a lightweight. But she was also thinking about ordering another martini. 

 


End file.
